


You're poison

by Pantouffle



Category: One Direction
Genre: Comedy, Crime, F/M, Homicide, M/M, Murder, Mystery, kebabs, sick!Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:59:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantouffle/pseuds/Pantouffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now for something completely different! :) It's quite literally murder on the dance floor...Why does someone want Liam dead, and will his bandmates piece together the answer in time to save his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Like all the best mistakes, it started with a kiss. Liam was drunk, she was hot...well, as far as he could recall. Admittedly, things were a little blurry the morning after, curled up on Zayn's sofa, the fug of leftover pizza and sweaty cavemen odour permeating the once pristine suite. 

All he remembered was the way she'd watched him all night from across the humid bar, flashing him cute little smiles every so often. 

She had wide, deeply set green eyes, high round cheekbones, and short, feathery dark hair. Every time she'd flash that calculating little grin, he was reminded of his mum's cat. And just like that cat, she toyed with him, teasing him like a bird on a string. Until, just before 1am, tiring of the game, she'd finally slunk up behind him on the dance floor.

She's a genius, he remembered thinking to himself. A bloody genius of seduction. "You could be Prime Minister...you're so fucking cunning!" he'd screamed at her over the R&B track the DJ that was blasting across the club. 

"Prime what?" she'd drawled. 

"Ahh...yeah...I forgot...we're in America! Whooo!" he'd giggled, stumbling over his slightly outsized Timberlands. How many beers had he had again? Not that many...but probably enough, when he considered the slammers and cocktails that had gone along with them throughout the course of he evening.

"Your accent is hawt," he'd replied, attempting to mimic her Valley girl twang, before realising a beat too late that mocking the girl your trying to pull isn't usually the best tactic.  
She didn't look too offended though. Instead, she'd glanced down at the floor, as though psyching herself up for something, then, glancing up coyly, leaned in to kiss him. He'd back up for a second, startled, then dived right in. In retrospect, it might not have been the most tender moment of her life. 

The kiss deepened as the music hammered around them, the lights twinkled, and it felt like they'd been exploring each other's mouths for hours. Suddenly he felt a sharp sting on his back. 

"Ooh, sorry," she'd giggled,"my bracelet's snagged on your top - just a second..."

"It's OK babe," Liam had slurred, "just kiss me," pulling her back in. 

"Actually, I should get back to my friends. This was fun though. Later babe," she'd fluttered, flicking him one last feline pout before slinking through the crowd. Liam sighed as he watched her tight ass disappear into the frenzy. Watching her sleek form confidently part the crowd of inebriated revellers as she went, the kitten looked much more like a panther.

And that was the last he'd seen of her. Shortly after, Zayn had dragged him into their waiting car, Niall zig-zagging ahead, and they'd all retreated to Zayn's room to watch stupid videos and devour ungodly amounts of grease. 

"Gyahnaraaaagh...why...why did we do that?" Niall rasped, his voice sounding oddly muffled. Puzzled, Liam flung himself over the cushions towards the direction of the sound.  
"Oh Niall, not again," he'd chuckled, rolling his eyes at his slightly younger bandmate, who, for the third time that month, had erected a cushion fort in the corner to sleep in. 

"You're regressing, I swear."

"Shuddup. Keeps away the monsters!" Niall wailed. "I know I was fighting 'em last night because today my head really really hurts. They must have hit me really hard!"  
"Yeah...the tequila monster," Liam groaned. "Mother fucker got me too Niall. I'm not sure Zayn survived."

"Let's go find out!" Niall cackled, exploding out of his cozy mound of pillows. Pausing to stretch his back out, he grabbed a half-full pizza box and tottered into Zayn's room.  
"Oh dear" sighed Liam, following the blonde into the equally less than fragrant bedroom. Niall, who had perched himself on the corner of the bed, was staring unblinking at his unconscious friend and mechanically cramming slices of pizza into his mouth, rolling them up to save time. 

Liam slowly moistened his finger, then leisurely drew it down Zayn's perfectly chiselled cheekbone, instantly dragging him out of whatever drunken dream he'd been enjoying.  
"Fuck off...fuck off...fuck off," growled Zayn, reaching out blindly to swot away the idiots who'd ruined his sleep. "AGH!" he screeched, noticing Niall for the first time. "Jesus! I told you to stop doing that. You look like a psychotic owl." 

Niall appeared unruffled. "I just like to watch you sleep baby." 

"Dear god. No wonder I drink, with you two around," Zayn moaned. 

"Nice to see you too! We just wanted to make sure you didn't sleep through rehearsals. Again. I'm off to shower. See you pair far, far too soon." he joked, turning to leave. Frankly, he could use some fresh air.

"Whoah, Liam," Niall yelped. "What happened to your back man? You're all scratched up."  
"Huh," Liam mused, rubbing his hand over the scabbed over wound at the base of his spine. "Guess that girl last night was well carried away!" 

"Yeah, you wish mate. Probably a mosquito bite," smirked Zayn.

"Whatever. You're just jealous man," Liam shot back, swaggering off for a much needed clean up, and, if he was quick, maybe even a cheeky power nap. All in all, it had been a great night. He just hoped he'd be able to stay awake long enough to get through the afternoon's PR activities. Now that Niall mentioned it, there was a slight, almost imperceptible ache around the wound. He'd grab some antiseptic gel for the scratch too, just in case. Couldn't afford to get sick after all.


	2. Unstoppable

As it turned out, after his shower, Liam felt remarkably sprightly. So good in fact, that he went through his room and folded up the all the T-shirts and socks he'd chucked out from his bag in his haste to get ready the night before. Then he did 300 sit-ups, five minutes of the plank, and two hundred press-ups, before bouncing out to rehearsals.

There was a tacit agreement between the fivesome that nobody mentioned any misdemeanours in front of management. Nonetheless, from Zayn and Nialls'distinctly sub-par performances, you didn't have to be a genius to work out they might have been out a little longer than was strictly advisable.

Fortunately, there was still a week until their next show - which, as Zayn sank to the floor with a groan, only to be joined by Niall two seconds later, was probably just enough time to recover.

Liam, on the other hand, was positively bouncing off the walls. Even when it wasn't his turn to do anything, he bobbed from one foot to the other, literally vibrating with energy. 

"Christ lad," called out Louis, three hours in, "whatever you're on, can you share it round please?"

"Yeah, me and Louis were tucked in with our Ovaltine at a reasonable hour last night, and we're still not keeping up! You're making us look bad," Harry chimed in. 

"Oi, as though I'd drink Ovaltine Harry!" Louis shot back, sounding highly offended. 

"What can I say boys? Must be my super healthy lifestyle," chuckled Liam, shooting a smirk and Zayn and Niall, who were using each other's back as a pillow. 

"Home time?" Louis called across to their tour manager, seizing on the lull to make his escape.

"Yeah, yeah. Off you go boys," she called back distractedly, her face buried in an extensive mound of legal papers.

"Brilliant," cheered Liam, clapping his hands. "To the gym!" 

"He's an animal!" groaned Zayn, rolling into their waiting car commando style. 

Even though they'd just completed two run-throughs, if anything, Liam was feeling even more pumped. 

"Stop it! You're rocking the seat!" Louis shrieked, shoving Liam lightly in the stomach. In return, Liam automatically thumped him back, a little bit more forcefully. 

"Whoah!" Louis guffawed, clutching his injured arm. "What the fuck man?" 

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Liam babbled, utterly contrite. " I didn't even think." 

Noticing how utterly devastated he looked, Louis let it slide. Still, he was pretty relieved when Liam bounded out off towards the gym to work off some more of his eerie surfeit of energy, barely pausing to decline Harry's suggestion of a trip to the coffee shop.

"See you at nine for late dinner then mate?" Niall called after him. "Yeah? Great." he replied on Liam's behalf, watching with an amused expression on his face as Liam hastily fumbled with the doors.

Five hours later, Zayn, Niall and Louis were gathered in Harry's room. Having lucked out and been randomly assigned double the amount of beds required, his was the automatic hangout space. It was half past nine, and they'd already ordered a mountain of Chinese food, 

"Where is he?" Zayn groaned. "Food'll be here soon. Should we knock again?"

"We just did ten minutes ago. And Niall did ten minutes before that, and I did five minutes before that. He's clearly not in there."

"You don't think...I'm just going to check something. Back in a mo' lads," muttered Harry, heading for the door. 

Although he half thought the idea was ridiculous, having already done the rounds of the hotel bar and coffee shop, there was only one more place that Liam could be. Sure enough, there was one distinctive figure alone dimly lit gym, sprinting away on the treadmill. 

"Liam, have you been here since this afternoon?" Harry squawked incredulously. 

"I...um...yeah! I suppose...I...have!" panted Liam. "It's like...I thought I should stop soon...but I just couldn't stop moving. What time is it?" 

"It's nine thirty! You've been working out...for five hours! What the hell man? You look awful," said Harry, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "Please stop mate. Please." 

"Ah, alright," puffed Liam, setting the machine to a slow pace before rolling to a gentle stop. As the belt finally stopped rotating, he slumped forward, resting his head against the bar. His skin was a sickly ashen hue, the only swathe of colour an unhealthy flush that stretched from ear to ear. His clothes were stuck to his body, rivulets of sweat cascading down his forehead and back.

"Come on, I'll wait while you shower," Harry said gently. Something was distinctly off with Liam, and he had a gut feeling that it would be a bad idea to leave him alone. 

Fifteen minutes later, Liam having miraculously rebounded in the lift to his room, was showered, changed, and nervously pacing around Harry's room. Niall eyed him warily. 

"It's alright man, the food will be here soon. Come sit down. We're gonna put Peep Show on." 

"Oh, yeah, OK," Liam said, shuffling over to Harry's spare bed and gingerly squatting on the edge. 

"You alright Liam?" asked Zayn, looking up and noting the clammy sheen on Liam's skin. "You look a bit sickly." 

"Yeah - wow!" exclaimed Louis, reaching forward to place a palm on his forehead. "You're burning up. Lie down mate, have a rest." 

"Nuh, I'm OK..." Liam protested, dropping to the floor and curling up beside Zayn. "Just hungry." 

"No he's right," Zayn concurred, lightly touching Liam's neck. "You're like a furnace bro. And don't try and tell me you develop a fever every time you eat a late dinner." 

"Wha'ever," groaned Liam, reaching for a cushion. He looked utterly wiped out, with faint purple shadows blooming underneath his eyes. "Wake me up for dinner."

But when the food arrived, he swatted away the heaped plate that Louis wafted in front of his face irritably. "Thought you said you were hungry," Louis teased. "Admit it Liam, you're sick. It's OK. We won't judge you."

"Meh. Fine. Leave me alone," he sighed, adjusting his cushion so that his head rested against Zayn's lap. 

"Awwww," teased Louis. "OK Liam, you just lie there looking all radioactive and we'll all assume you're absolutely super." 

"Good," Liam grunted. "Now go away," he mumbled, closing his eyes whilst Zayn watched over him, concern etched into his face.

Six episodes, and industrial amounts of dim sum later, Liam's nap didn't seem to be doing him any good. If anything, he seemed much worse, shivering in his sleep and fidgeting uncomfortably. 

"Should we get him to bed?" asked Louis.

"Yeah, good luck moving him," scoffed Niall. "Liam.....Liiiiiiam," he called gently. Instantly, Liam threw himself bolt upright, leaping to his feet, before tottering forwards and grabbing his lower back as he sank to his knees.

"Urgh. OK, I don't feel good," he moaned. Alarmed, the others had all jumped up too, forming a concerned circle around their bandmate. 

"What's up Li?" Niall asked softly, "where does it hurt?"

"Huh. Everywhere...but really sore around here..." he murmured, gesturing to his lower left side. And I feel all dizzy and shivery." 

"Should we get someone?" Louis asked tentatively, shooting a meaningful glance at Harry.

"No!" Liam cried, momentarily distracted. "Just need to rest. Please. I'll be fine in the morning." 

"Hop on the spare bed then pal," said Harry, gently guiding him up from the floor. "Don't want to be alone when you're sick."

"'K," Liam whispered, curling into a ball under the plush duvet. 

"Sleepover!" Niall crowed gleefully. "You know what this means!" 

"No Niall...again...really?" spluttered Louis, rolling his eyes as the blonde zipped around gathering spare cushions and sheets.

"YES!" Friday night fort-night part two," he giggled happily.

As the others settled in on the various beds and sofas, Niall quickly drifted off into a contented sleep, soon joined by a wiped out Zayn and Louis. Only Harry remained wide awake, frowning in concern as he listened to Liam's restless sleep, punctuated with soft moans as he tossed and turned through the night.


	3. We're watching

It's six o'clock, thought Zayn, Why am I awake and looking at my watch at six am? This is wrong. Then he heard it. A groan and a thump from the hallway, a little like a distressed bear. Half awake, the logical response seemed to be to poke his head out the door and confront the beast that had so rudely disturbed his sleep. 

What greeted him turned out to be a much more distressing sight. Liam was slumped against the elevator, head in his hands, slowly rocking back and forth. His light grey t-shirt was drenched with sweat, and from what Zayn could tell, his fever was far from broken. If anything, he looked a hundred times worse than before.

"Liam, man, what you doing?" he asked softly, squatting down to face his bandmate and taking his clammy hands to get his full attention. Liam's eyes were rolling around, and he seemed to be having significant trouble focusing his thoughts.

"Going outside. It's too hot. Too hot. But then I fell down and it hurts too much to get up. It hurts so much Zayn, I've got to get away...they did this...and now they won't leave me alone. Why won't they stop the messages?" he sobbed.

Watching his composed-to-a-fault best friend break down in such despair was almost too much for Zayn to handle. This was Liam - macho, strong Liam. He couldn't even begin to fathom how much pain he must be in.

"Come on man, let's get you back to bed yeah? I've got you," Zayn said, soothingly, wrapping Liam's arm around his neck and beginning a slow, broken shuffle down the hallway. Liam wasn't kidding about being hot - it was uncomfortable just being in such close proximity to him. Zayn was surprised he wasn't fully hallucinating by now. No doubt these mystery messages were some horrible fever dream that had woken Liam up.

Suddenly, he felt a vibration coming from Liam's pocket. Liam froze. "It's them again," he whispered to Zayn in terror. "Can you...can you read it?" he gasped, stumbling slightly as he leant down to reach for the cell. 

Sceptically, Zayn took it from Liam. There was indeed a long stream of texts from an unknown number. Zayn felt a thrill of apprehension run through his spine as he scrolled through. 

9pm [It's starting]

2.30am [Feeling OK?]

3.00am [Bet you're feeling hot.]

3.30am [Does it hurt?]

4,00am [It's only only going to get worse. Trust me on that.]

4.30am [We're watching you. We can see you're awake. We can see that you're in pain.]

5.00am [Getting hotter big boy?]

5.30am [Where are you going? We can see you there too.]

6.00am [Zayn, if you go for help, you'll regret it. Trust us on this too.]

"Aw man, its just some sick hoax. Probably some staff member fucking around with the CCTV or something," Zayn soothed.

"But, nobody has this number. This is a Blackphone - it's totally hack proof, and i only brought it last week," Liam whined, trembling. "How...and it won't let me reply. It's like they have all the power..."

"Shhh, shhh, we'll sort it with the boys yeah? The main thing is getting you back to bed and feeling better. Come on."

Twenty minutes later, Liam had been persuaded to discard his sodden t-shirt, and was tucked up back under a fresh quilt, shivering violently as Zayn tried to coax him into letting him hold a cold compress to his forehead. Meanwhile, Harry, Louis and Niall slept on, oblivious to the drama. 

"Try and get back to sleep mate, we'll be here when you wake up," Zayn urged, trying to distract Liam from the inevitable panic when the next creepy text arrived. Unfortunately he wasn't having much luck. Right on cue, at 6.30, Liam's phone buzzed into life. 

"Jesus," Zayn gasped involuntarily, staring at the message in disbelief. 

[Wake the others. Be ready for our call at seven. Do not, under any circumstances go for help or let anyone outside this room know about this conversation. Do not call for any medical attention - there is no other way to help Liam than complying with every single one of our instructions - to the fucking letter. There's no medic in the country that would even know where to start. Like we said, trust us on this. Later babe. xx P.S Liam, if you're worried about that weird sensation in your legs, don't worry, you won't even notice it when it all really kicks in.]

Zayn turned to Liam, expecting him to be freaking out. Instead, he was slumped against his pillows, staring blankly into the middle distance. 

"We'll sort this man, OK? It's just some weirdos messing with our heads. Probably be all over the Daily Mail tomorrow. You've got flu or something and they've decided to shit you up," he said, gripping Liam's shoulder firmly. "OK?" Liam didn't reply. Frankly, Zayn wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to convince. 

"But, Zayn," Liam said, sounding deathly tired, "if it's just some prank, and they're getting this from watching us, and talking about random flu symptoms, how did they know about my legs?" 

Zayn balked for a second, then settled his face into what he hoped was a calm expression, letting his gaze flick to the lower half of the cover. Almost hypnotically, he lifted it up, and, with the greatest of care, reached down to brush his hand across Liam's calf. Although his leg was rigidly still, the muscle pulsated spasmodically under his touch. "Ugh," Liam winced, "that stings."

"Let's wake the lads. We'll sort this," Zayn soothed, hoping his voice sounded a lot more confident than he felt. What the hell was going on, and, more importantly, how the were they supposed to help Liam before he got any worse?


	4. Out of options

This is a dream, Harry thought to himself, A really, really vivid and odd dream where I'm sitting with the lads around a phone waiting for some crazy person to tell us what's wrong with Liam - who looks like he belongs in a hospital, not perched on the end of a sofa in just a pair of sweatpants. 

Minutes ticked by. "This is so fu..." Louis began, when suddenly the rude buzz of Liam's mobile against the glass coffee table cut him off. Finger trembling, Liam reached forward and pressed answer. There was a moment of silence as he fumbled to put it on speaker, broken by a loud robotic voice cracking through the air.

"Good boys. We're glad you decided to play ball. Now keep quiet, and we'll tell you what to do if you want your friend to live." Niall gasped raggedly at this, but Zayn shot him a fierce look, and he quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes fixing doggedly ahead. Louis shook his head ruefully. Melodramatic much, he thought to himself.

"38 hours ago, one of our operatives infected Liam with a rare and hard to detect toxin. Although he will have experienced an initial rush of euphoria and energy six hours after the initial injection, approximately 12 hours ago, he would have started to feel very ill indeed. We imagine by now, those damaged kidneys aren't doing so good. There will be excruciating muscle pains, spasms, weakness, fever, and then...well....the body can only take so much." 

Four anxious pairs of eyes settled on Liam, who had his aching head bowed into his hands. Zayn reached over to rub his feverish shoulder blade comfortingly.

"But good news!" the gravelly voice at the end of he line deadpanned. "There's a cure. All you have to do is deliver one million dollars to our operative, at a time and place that we will confirm later today, If you don't follow every single one of our instructions to the letter though, no dice. No telling tales to anyone. We know you've got the next 40 hours off, which should be ample time for you to avoid any suspicious parties. Now sit tight lads, we'll be in touch."

"Wait a moment," rasped Harry, coming to his senses. "You're telling us that you've poisoned our bandmate, and you're expecting us to just sit and wait?" he ranted, climbing up to pace the room. "While he gets sicker and sicker in front of our eyes? And how do we even now you've got an antidote? What's to stop up just taking him to hospital and having him treated right now? You know what I..."

A sinister hiss cut him off mid flow as a fire sprinkler descended from the ceiling and shot a puff of white mist into the room. Harry gave a short gasp, and collapsed into an empty chair, clasping his hands to his chest. 

"Haz, what's wrong?" Niall cried anxiously. Louis sprinted across to the bathroom, emerging seconds later with Harry's inhaler. He carried it over to the now hyperventilating Harry, kneeling down to push it into his hands.

"Breathe out lad, then deep puff for me, OK?" he murmured softly. "Try not to panic. You'll just make your chest tighter." 

Harry clicked it open a slowly lifted it to his mouth, before taking two deep, frantic drags of the medicine. Almost instantly, his airways cleared, though there was an audible wheeze as his breath finally released.

"See boys," the voice gloated, "we know everything about you. We know all your weaknesses. Harry, there's plenty more doses where that came from. Even pop stars can die of asthma attacks you know. Now sit down, shut up, and wait for our call."

There was a click, and the line disconnected. 

"Right, Liam, back to bed man," Zayn urged, snapping into action. "Being on your feet and stressed is just gonna make the poison work faster. But lean forward, let's see your back."

"What? What's his back got to do with anything?" Louis piped up. 

"Well, I think we can safely work out where they injected him. That wasn't just a harmless drunken accident," he explained, waving his hand over the raised scratches on Liam's lower spine. "That creepy girl must have had the poison on her bracelet. Look how swollen the cuts are now." The skin around the scratches had taken on a lurid magenta hue, and a few bruises were now mottling the area around it. It looked agonising, but Liam seemed too out of it to register the damage.

"Harry, you OK?" Niall asked, turning to look at his friend as he cracked open every window possible. Harry was sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, a dazed expression playing across his face.

"Ah...yeah...'m fine. Just...give...me...an...hour....to get my...breath....back properly," Harry wheezed. "Let's worry about...Liam."

Unbelievably, as soon as Zayn had got Liam to lie back down, he'd passed out into a deathlike sleep. Zayn had taken the opportunity to replace the cold compress on his forehead, and was now perched on the bed beside him, staring down with an air of heartbreak.

"Should we wake him up?" asked Niall, chewing on his thumbnail. 

"Nah, might as well let him get some respite from this shitstorm," said Louis gloomily. "Looks like we're trapped here 'til these bastards give the word. Let's just hope he's strong enough to hang on until then."


	5. Down the Wire

The dull stream of rain that had been falling all day had picked up. Liam stirred and groaned, jolted back into wakefulness by a dramatic crash of thunder. Zayn flicked off the TV and padded over to the bed. 

"How long?" Liam mumbled, slowly rubbing his eyes. 

"How long...what?" Zayn replied, fearing the worst.

"How long was I asleep?" 

"Oh," said Zayn, "about five hours? The other lads...they went to get some food. They should be back any time soon," he soothed, praying Liam wouldn't hear the catch in his voice. No point telling him where they'd really gone. How when their mysterious torturers had phoned four hours ago, the four conscious band members had wasted five precious minutes flipping coins to decide which three would be the ones to head to the abandoned warehouse they'd be summoned too. 

Not that it was any safer here on balance, given the events of the past day. Still, that warehouse was only thirty minutes away. They should have been back hours ago. As instructed, the four had destroyed their phones once the final set of demands had been issued. The money had been wired...and in theory, the cure...whatever that was...should have been in their hands by now. So where the hell were they? Zayn eyeballed the motley collection of half finished sodas and candy wrappers on the table. Had it really only been yesterday that things had been normal? His train of thought was interrupted by a soft moan from the bed.

"Where's it hurt Liam?" he asked gently.

"Oh, you know...it was just a twinge...really..." Liam blustered, "I can hardly...agh!" he choked, pain cutting through the bluff. 

"What is it? Tell me Liam!"

"My back...it feels like there's needles in my spine," Liam gasped, rolling his shoulders back and forward in agony, his hands trembling on the covers. 

"Can you make a fist?" Zayn asked gently, trying to distract his friend. 

Liam stared dumbly down, and slowly, with painstaking effort, clawed his fingers into his palms. "It's spreading isn't it?" Liam said sadly. "From my legs up to my spine..." 

"No...don't think like that...they'll be here...I mean...they'll call soon..." 

Liam put his hand out to stop Zayn. "I know. I know Zayn. Can you just tell me one thing?"

"Yes Liam?" he said, biting his lip anxiously.

"How long...how long do I have?"

"About three hours, I think. Though it's hard to be sure...but it'll be fine...you'll see," Zayn answered, desperately hoping that he was speaking the truth.

"Thank you...Zayn...You always were my best friend, you know," Liam mumbled, falling back into his pillows."S'chilly in here. Did you turn up the air con?" 

"No, but I'll get you another blanket," Zayn said, gently laying a second duvet over his friend and taking the opportunity to surreptitiously check his friend's fever. As he suspected from Liam's glazed expression, it was as high as ever. 

"Don't...don't let me fall asleep again..." Liam gasped, weakly reaching to tug Zayn's sleeve. "Please...I'm scared that I won't wake up again..." he whispered. "Feel so strange and cold."

"Count on it pal," Zayn soothed, rubbing Liam's hand in his while he glanced worriedly at the clock radio. Where the hell were the others?


	6. Disoriented

Harry was dreaming. He was running through a sort of Rubik's cube, trying to find escape through a labyrinth of tunnels that kept upending and twisting upon themselves and throwing him back the way he'd just come. There was some reason, he thought, that he desperately needed to escape. But as he felt his back slide against the wall yet again, it seemed to much easier to give into the darkness. To just lie there and accept his fate. Suddenly it came to him, like a punch in the solar plexus. Liam! He needed to get to Liam. Mustering all his strength, he sucked in a gulp of air, and jolted forward...and came to, choking out a handful of dust. 

Retching, Harry slowly pulled himself upright, memories slowly pulling at his consciousness. Lungs bursting, they'd all but sprinted to the warehouse as directed, hoodies pulled up over caps to hide their faces. And right there, dangling from the ceiling on a thin wire, had been a syringe in a plastic case. Before he'd even had a chance to warn him, Niall had let our a victory whoop, and leapt up to grab it. Simultaneously, the door behind them had slammed shut, and a thick white mist had descended. Comprehension dawned on Niall's face as he turned to look at Louis and Harry, who had pulled their T-Shirts over their mouths. It had been too late though. The last thing that Harry had seen before it all went foggy was Louis' face, creased in concern, looming close to his. And then he'd fallen backwards, sucked into endless nightmares.

On his left, Niall appeared to be dozing, his hand wrapped around the syringe. Louis was halfway to the door, apparently felled mid-way through an attempt to rescue the others. 

"Wake up! Guys, wake up!" Harry gasped, his voice unnaturally hoarse. His eyes stung, and his head pounded with the effort of staggering to his feet. "Please, please Louis," he muttered, gently shaking his shoulders. Louis' eyes flew open, and he coughed, and then grabbed his watch, eyes bulging in terror.

"Shit, shit Harry, we've got to get out of here!" Louis cried."It's five o'clock! Fuck knows if we've even got enough time to help Liam."

"I hear you man," Harry wheezed, "but I can't get Niall to wake up." Louis narrowed his eyes in frustration. "We're just going to have to get him outside, then you sit with him while I peg it to the hotel." 

"But Lou..."Harry whined,"don't you think it's dangerous for us to split up? Let me go."

"And have you collapse mid-way and stop breathing? No chance pal. C'mon, we don't have time to argue."

Unwillingly, Harry nodded, and the two half-carried, half-dragged an unconscious Niall outside, settling on a secluded spot two blocks away. Flicking a rueful glance back at Harry, Louis broke into a run, fighting every urge to collapse into an exhausted heap on the floor. Miraculously, the usual mob of fans had been dispersed by the police earlier that day, and he was able to hustle into the lobby relatively quietly, hugely grateful for his electronic key card. Not trusting the lift, Louis pounded up the stairs and almost threw himself through the door, skidding across the wooden floor in the process.

"Louis!" At once Zayn was on his feet, gently disentangling himself from Liam - who, Louis was excited to note, appeared to still be alive, if barely. "Where the fuck have you been? Why do you look like you've been rolling in dirt? Where are the others?"

"I'll explain later. Let's deal with Liam first," Louis panted, waving the syringe in front of Zayn's face. "What do we do now?" Zayn took the box and dubiously examined the syringe, which resembled an epi-pen he'd seen his friend use in school. 

"I think, I think we need to inject Liam's thigh," Zayn said, contemplatively. "But...can we really trust them? How do we know this isn't another sick trick?"

"Well, what choice do we have?" Louis argued, "Look at him," he added in a whisper, nodding towards Liam. Utterly exhausted, Liam was lying cushioned on a nest of pillows, glazed in sweat. His eyes were half open, though it wasn't clear if he registered anything that was going on. At that moment, he let out a low moan, his upper torso rippling in agony as a wave of cramps kicked in. 

"Liam - it's Ok man, it's OK," Zayn cried, rushing to position cup himself around Liam's head, wrapping his arms around him. Louis guessed this wasn't the first time today Zayn had done this. "OK, let's do it," Zayn assented, gently wiping Liam's forehead with a bit of duvet. 

"OK, you hold him still, I'll stick it in. Let's pray this works the same as we learnt in GCSE first aid training," he joked, pulling up the duvet to expose Liam's upper thigh. 

"Agh," Liam gasped, twisting his body away as Louis went to put his hand on him.

"It's Ok, it's fine, please just hold still, just for one second Liam," Zayn murmured. Liam's breathing was ragged, but it appeared to have registered, and his body went limp in Zayn's arms, though it appeared to be a monumental effort. "Do it now Louis, before another fit kicks in, on the count of three, OK?"

"Ungh!" Liam cried out hoarsely, as Louis violently plunged the needle in.

"I said on count of three, Louis!" Zayn protested, annoyed at his bandmate's characteristic impulsiveness. 

*Yeah but it's better this way - he wasn't expecting it," Louis rationalized. "Anyway, it's done now. How do you think he looks?" 

"Honestly, not great," Zayn sighed. "But let's wait and see. Where the fuck are Harry and Niall?" At that moment, the door swung open.

"Right here," rasped Harry, slinging a drowsy Niall through the door. "Managed to flag down a cab on the mainstream. Expect a typo-loaded Daily Mail story about drunk Harry and Niall in about ten minutes."

Niall rolled off Harry's shoulder and to the floor, sleepily pulling himself up against the bed and fumbling for the phone.

"Hullooo, roomservice? He slurred into the handset. "Five...no, seven espressos please. And a pizza and chips. Meat feast. Yeah, and six packets of crisps please. Yeah...yeah, no, I mean potato chips. Jesus... Americans!" he exclaimed, throwing the phone back into its cradle. "What?" he moaned, looking up at the three concerned faces. "I get cranky when my blood sugar is low!"

"Riiight," Louis drawled, "well, let's assume he's going to be fine. Harry lad, you OK?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," Harry sighed. "Once I've had about twenty hours of sleep. But what about Liam?"

"He's asleep now at least," Zayn sighed, "properly asleep. Though he feels as hot as ever. I think now we just wait...and hope."


End file.
